a perfumed trail in his wake as he escorted his beautiful wife into the building. Lady Aurelia had been less liberal with the scent bottle, but the sunlight played on her golden coronet of curls, and turned the beads on her bodice into molten glass. Her waist, accentuated by the swinging bell of her crimson skirts, was whittled away to a hand span, and her low décolletage was complemented by a ruby and diamond necklace with matching earrings. Lottie basked in her reflected glory. She felt a sense of pride, like an artist who had created a masterpiece for the rest of the world to admire and praise, and it did not matter that her own gown was plain and downright dowdy.
Lady Aurelia outshone all the other women present, and it amused Lottie to see them dragging their husbands into the mess hall in an attempt to keep them at a safe distance from temptation. The unattached officers paid their respects, bowing over Aurelia’s gloved hand while keeping a wary eye on her husband. She greeted them with a pleasant smile and a nod of her head, but her attitude changed subtly when Gillingham approached. Lottie noted with some surprise that her ladyship’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled as she held her hand out to him.
‘Ah, Gillingham,’ Colonel Dashwood said affably. ‘Be so good as to escort my wife to the table while I have a word with the major-general.’ He patted Aurelia on the arm. ‘I’ll join you in a moment, my dear. I need to speak to Fluffy.’
‘Of course, Dashwood. Take as long as you like. I’m in good hands with Farrell.’ Aurelia slipped her hand through the crook of Gillingham’s arm, and they walked off, chatting like old friends.
‘Fluffy?’ Lottie murmured, gazing at the gentleman in question whose mess dress was heavy with gold braid and his chest emblazoned with medals.
‘Major-General Frederick Fothergill, known to his friends as Fluffy.’
She turned to find herself looking into the smiling face of Private Ellis, although she barely recognised him in his smart uniform. His pallor had been replaced by a healthy glow and the ugly bruise on his forehead had already begun to fade.
‘I didn’t expect to see you so soon, although I hoped you might still be here.’
‘I certainly didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to see you again so soon, Lottie.’ He glanced at the velvet cloak she was holding. ‘How did you become involved with Lady Aurelia?’
‘You make it sound like a crime,’ she said, laughing. ‘She has taken me on as her personal maid. I’ve come up in the world from washing out chamber pots.’
He shook his head. ‘You might think differently if her ladyship decides to follow her husband to the Crimea. It’s no place for a woman.’
‘Miss Nightingale doesn’t think so.’
‘Miss Nightingale has no experience of warfare.’ Gideon glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a sharp command. ‘I’m on duty, Lottie. Are you going to wait here for her ladyship? These affairs can go on well into the small hours.’
‘I suppose so. She told me to wait, so I suppose I must.’
‘Private Ellis.’
The staccato bark of his sergeant made Gideon snap to attention. ‘I might see you in between courses.’ He marched into the mess hall and the door closed behind him.
Silence echoed round the anteroom and for a moment Lottie thought that she was alone, but a muffled cough behind her made her turn her head to see a woman wearing the severe black uniform of a lady’s maid. The woman crossed the floor to stand beside her. ‘I’m Maggie Cole, Mrs Fothergill’s maid. You must be standing in for Miss Merriweather.’
‘I’m her replacement – Lottie Lane. Miss Merriweather is remaining in Bath, so I’ve been told.’
‘Poor old thing. She struggled to keep up with her ladyship. Sometimes she’d look so tired you’d wonder how she managed to keep going, so I’m not surprised.’ Maggie put her head on one side. ‘Where did you work before this?’
Lottie hooked the cloak over one arm. ‘I should hang this up or it’ll get creased.’
‘Give it to me and I’ll do it for you.’ Maggie took the garment from Lottie and strolled over to a row of pegs hung with military caps and shakos. She took a couple down and draped them over the back of a chair. ‘That’ll do,’ she said, hanging the cloak on the empty pegs before returning to Lottie’s side. ‘We have to look out for our ladies. Never mind the men, they can sort themselves out.’
‘Do we have to stand here all evening?’ Lottie asked anxiously. ‘I haven’t eaten yet and I’m starving.’
Maggie pulled up two stools, setting them close to the mess hall doors. ‘Leave it to me. I’m used to this game.’ She winked and nodded, turning her head as a door on the far side of the room opened and a procession of waiters marched towards the mess hall carrying silver serving dishes.
Maggie accosted the last one, a young fresh-faced private who looked pale and nervous. ‘Bring us a plate of food, love,’ she said, fluttering her lashes. ‘You wouldn’t see two lovely ladies go hungry, would you?’
He cleared his throat. ‘I’ll get into trouble, miss.’
‘What’s your name, Private?’
‘Perks, miss.’
‘Your first name, Perks.’
His blush deepened. ‘I have to go, miss.’
Maggie clutched his sleeve. ‘You can tell me, Perks.’
‘Rodney, miss.’
‘A very nice name, Rodney. I’ll see that the major-general hears about it if anyone says anything untoward. Bring us a small plateful of something tasty, there’s a good fellow.’
He nodded and hurried into the mess hall just as the doors were about to close. Maggie turned to Lottie with a smug smile. ‘See! That’s how you do it. We’ll have the tastiest morsel he can find, bless him.’
‘Poor boy,’ Lottie said softly. ‘You embarrassed him, Maggie.’
‘He’ll get over it, and I’ll give him a kiss to reward him for his trouble.’
‘I thought all ladies’ maids were prim and proper. You’re not a bit like that.’
Maggie threw back her head and laughed. ‘I am when it’s necessary. You’ll learn the tricks of the trade, Lottie my girl. But my motto is to have as much fun as possible while I’m young enough to enjoy myself.’
‘I suppose I can’t argue with that.’
‘My, you’re the serious one, aren’t you?’ Maggie eyed her curiously. ‘You never answered my question about your last position. Were you in service?’
‘Not really. I was a maid of all work in a coaching inn.’
‘Well, I never did. What with you speaking like the gentry and all that, I would have thought you were a convent girl. As for me, I was raised in the foundling hospital and sent into service when I was eleven. I don’t know who my ma and pa were and I don’t suppose I’ll ever find out.’
Maggie
